In His League
by Alexandri
Summary: Harry has a crush, but won't do anything about it. Ron is determined to see his friend happy. Neville's in the crossfire and that's not such a bad thing. HarryNeville. COMPLETE.
1. Between Friends

A/N: I wrote this some time ago and I just though I'd post it here.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this. But you knew that already.

* * *

"How long have you known?" Ron asked finally. 

"Since sixth year," Harry replied softly, picking restlessly at the grass beside his thigh. "I realized it around Halloween."

"Oh." Ron was incredulous and thoroughly dismayed. When Harry had said he needed to talk to him in private after their match, he hadn't imagined this. Now they lay side by side in the middle of the pitch, the late afternoon sun casting reddish light over everything, and Harry had just told him something far more surprising than any theory about Voldemort's latest scheme could be. How had he not picked up on this? Harry was his best friend. Hell, he was closer to Harry than he was to some of his brothers. He should have known.

"Is this going to be a problem, Ron?"

Turning, he looked down to find his friend looking somberly up at him. Ron frowned. Is that what Harry thought of him? "You . . ." he paused, trying to choose the right words, "you don't fancy me, do you?"

Harry's eyes widened behind his glasses and the color bled out of his face. "No! Oh, God, no."

"And why the bloody hell not?" Ron demanded, offended by the horrified nature of Harry's response. "I'm a right attractive fellow, damn it. I may not have the whole tortured hero thing you have going for you, but I'll have you know there are a number of girls who find me quite appealing."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Harry clamped a hand over his mouth and began to shake. Tears welled up in his eyes. Ron's indignation melted away only to be replaced with concern. He tentatively reached out to touch Harry's shoulder, an apology forming on his lips, when Harry broke. Laughter, raucous and loud, spilled out of him, the hoots and giggles coming so fast, they tripped over each other and threatened to choke him. Ron crossed his arms over his chest, his indignation back in full force. Really. Harry was just being outright insulting now. "I don't see what's so amusing about what I said," he said coldly, trying to mask his hurt.

With great effort, Harry managed to rein in his laughter. "It's not what you think," he gasped out, wiping tears off his cheeks.

"Then why did you act like the idea of fancying me was the most disgusting thing you'd ever heard?"

"Well, the idea of _me_ fancying you sort of is," Harry said. "You're like my brother, Ron. Me liking you romantically would be like . . . you feeling like that about Ginny."

"Oh, Merlin," Ron cried, slapping his hands over his ears. "Don't say things like that. That's … uuugghh." Ron shuddered and viciously thrust the images Harry's words prompted out of his mind.

"See? It has nothing to do with you," Harry assured. "In fact, you're right. You are a right attractive fellow. It's just you don't turn me on, so to speak."

Ron let his hands fall away from his ears. "Okay. Well, good. Things won't get weird between us then."

They lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Now that he knew Harry wasn't secretly pining for him, Ron began to wonder what had taken his friend so long to tell him.

"You taking this much better than I thought you would," Harry murmured into the cooling air.

"You prefer blokes," he said with a shrug. "It's not a big deal as long as I'm not the one you fancy. Because that would just be awkward, especially since I like girls. Besides, Charlie told us he was gay back when I was ten, so I'm used to the idea."

"Charlie's gay?" Harry asked, something akin to delight brightening his voice.

"Yes and he's off-limits to you," Ron said fiercely. "Not only is he too old for you, he's my brother. If I'm your brother, so is he."

"Damn, no Weasley love for me then."

"Ugghh." Ron rolled his eyes at Harry's grin before chuckling. Then he turned serious. "How did you know?"

Harry shrugged. "After the whole disaster with Cho, I realized that, while girls are really great to look at, I didn't really want to do more than that."

"Cho drove you to blokes?" Ron grinned. "I'm sure she'd love to know that."

"No, she didn't drive me to blokes," Harry corrected dryly. "There was something underwhelming about kissing her and, what with her crying every time we tried anything remotely intimate, it made me wary of girls."

"So, for all you know, you could be bisexual?"

Harry shook his head as one corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. "Let's just say I find boys much more stimulating than any girl I've ever come across."

"Oh." Ron sat up, folding his long legs and stared down at Harry. "Like who?"

"What?"

"Like who?" he repeated. Ron couldn't help finding this all very interesting. So much of their friendship had revolved around Voldemort and Harry's destiny drama that they didn't really do the whole "talking about who we like," buddy thing. It surprised Ron to realize how atypical their adolescence had been. "What turns you on?"

Harry cocked his head to the side. "You really want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

"Well," Harry began, his voice a little hesitant, "one of the first things I noticed was the way Justin's hair shines in sunlight."

"Justin? Blond, Hufflepuff Justin?" Harry nodded. "So you like blonds?"

"Well …"

"Oh, no."

"What?"

"Tell me you don't fancy Malfoy."

"Well …"

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, appalled. "_Malfoy_? How can you possibly fancy him? He's a git. A huge, irredeemable git."

"I never said I fancied him," Harry huffed. "And I agree; he is a git. But he's a damned beautiful one."

"There are some things I just don't need to hear, Harry."

"You asked."

Ron glared at his prone friend and refused to acknowledge the truth of his words. "Anyone else? Please don't let it be anyone traumatizing."

"Well, Crabbe did get pretty beefy over the summer holidays …"

"Gross," Ron declared at Harry's laugh. "Remember, I know where you sleep. I could easily get to you and exact revenge for this ghastly mental abuse."

"You could try."

"Yeah, well. Anyone else?"

"Well, Zabini's rather gorgeous, but I suspect he's also high maintenance."

"Higher than Malfoy."

Harry shook his head. "Malfoy would be high maintenance because you're trying to keep him happy and relatively civil. I think with Zabini you'd be too busy trying to keep everybody else from trying to steal him from you."

Ron laughed. "So do you like any of these blokes?"

"No."

"_Is_ there someone you like?"

"Well …"

"There is, isn't there?" Ron practically shouted. Now this was really interesting.

"Yeah," came Harry's quiet reply.

When he didn't elaborate, Ron nudged his shoulder impatiently. "You gonna tell me or not?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I think I've proven that I'll understand more than you think I will."

Harry stared thoughtfully at Ron and Ron returned his gaze. Just when Harry opened his mouth to answer, the sound of footsteps jogging toward them cut him off. Ron turned toward the newcomer while Harry pushed himself up on his elbows.

A minute later, Neville slowed to a stop and smiled at his dorm mates. "Hello."

"Hey, Nev," Ron greeted casually.

Harry didn't say anything but offered a weak smile instead.

"Hermione asked me to come down and tell you two that dinner'll start in about an hour and that you should come back to the common room since it's getting dark," Neville rattled off in one breath. Then he grinned and Ron noticed that Neville had a very nice smile. "Is she always like that with you two?"

"Like what?" Ron asked, ready to defend Hermione against any insult Neville could think to utter.

"Motherly," the boy answered, a hint of wistfulness tingeing the word.

"Yeah, she is," Ron said, his defensiveness down again. Then he smirked. "Bloody annoying it is, too."

Neville shrugged musingly. "I can see that, I guess. But I bet it's nice having someone look out for you like that." He gave a little laugh and shrugged. "Anyway, you should come before she really starts to fret." With that, he turned and trotted back to the castle.

Ron turned back to Harry, intent on resuming their conversation. Harry, however, was leaning back on his hands, his eyes tracking Neville's progress. His mouth had fallen open a little, his head tilted to the side as if to get the best angle. Ron glanced back and forth between the two for a moment before his own mouth dropped open. "Oh, my … no!"

Harry's head whipped toward Ron, his eyes wide and dilated. "What no?"

"You like Neville."

"What?" Harry's voice squeaked high and shrill.

"You. Like. Neville."

Harry's mouth worked for a moment before he gave up and sighed. "Am I that obvious?"

"Just a little." Ron fought off his smirk. From Harry's defeated posture, he could tell his friend had it bad. Over Neville. "I guess I can see it. He's shot up over the hols, lost his baby fat, and he has arms and shoulders worthy of a Beater."

"And an arse like granite." Harry's mouth dropped. "I cannot believe I just said that."

It was Ron's turn to burst out into helpless laughter. Harry bore Ron's mirth as graciously as he could for the first minute. Then he shoved Ron's shoulder. "Let's go."

Still chuckling, Ron got to his feet beside Harry and they started back to the castle. Finally, he said, "Why don't you just make a move?"

"Huh?"

"On Neville," Ron elaborated. "Why don't you ask him out or something?"

"He's like that?" Harry asked, hope sending his timbre up a notch.

"I don't know."

"It's not like I want to ask Lavender out, Ron. I don't want to offend him or anything if he's not into boys."

"Makes sense," Ron admitted as they climbed the steps to the great oak doors. "So what are you going to do?"

"Nothing."

They quietly argued the entire way to Gryffindor Tower. Ron felt that Harry should at least feel Neville out and see if he'd be receptive to Harry's feelings. Harry felt just as adamantly that it would best to leave things as they were. With the war bearing down on them, trying to negotiate a romance was a distraction Harry didn't think they could afford.

"So you're just going to moon over him?" Ron demanded as they stumbled to a stop in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, furious with his pig-headed friend.

"I'm not mooning over anybody," Harry said firmly before giving the password and entering the common room. "Just let it go, Ron. Please?"

Harry didn't wait for an answer. He joined Hermione on one of the sofas near the fireplace and fell into conversation with her, Ginny and Neville.

Ron neared the group, noticing Harry cast furtive, longing glances at Neville, who was completely oblivious. As he joined them, he decided that Harry had gone through and sacrificed too much to give up on romance. He was going to find out if Neville was capable of returning Harry's affections and, if he was, nothing under the sun would keep Ron from putting those two together. If anybody deserved to be happy, Harry and Neville did. It was the least he could do as their friend to see that it happened.


	2. Watching Neville

Neville shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on the book in front of him. It was no use; he knew that. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, the fact would remain that Ron was staring at him. Again. It was uncanny, and rather unsettling, how he seemed to show up wherever Neville was. Before two weeks ago, the boy had never seemed so interested in him. It was enough to make Neville feel well and truly stalked. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

If he were completely honest, it added to the sense of displacement he'd felt since the term started. So many people were paying attention to him now. Instead of floating on the periphery, he'd finally found his place in the school's social makeup thanks to the DA. He did much better in his classes, making particular strides in transfiguration and potions. Though he would never be a potions master, he had at least stopped blowing up cauldrons and often managed to make adequate potions without Hermione's help. People were generally nicer to him. While it was nice to be noticed and included, Neville didn't quite know what to do with all the newfound popularity.

Now Ron was stalking him and he didn't know what to do about it? Why was Ron even interested in him? Had he done something and Ron was studying him so he could come up with the most devastating revenge? It seemed unlikely but then so did being stalked by his dormmate.

He was still trying to think of a plausible reason for his current predicament when he noticed Ron get and cross the common room. He slid into the seat opposite Neville and folded his hands on top of the table. Neville sat back and put his hands in his lap. "H-hello, Ron."

"Hey, Neville," Ron returned pleasantly. "I have a question for you?"

"A-a-a qu-question?"

"Yes." Ron leaned forward and Neville automatically leaned back, keeping as much distance between them as possible. "Why don't you have a girlfriend?"

Neville blinked. Surely he heard wrong. "I-I … pardon?"

"Why don't you have a girlfriend?" Ron propped his chin and stared at Neville with friendly curiosity. "There's a number of girls who'd date you if you showed the slightest interest."

"Th-there is?" This couldn't possibly be true, could it? Neville knew that girls were voluntarily talking to him now. A few had even touched him casually, but those weren't indications of interest, were they?

"Yes, they are," Ron pronounced firmly. "Lavender and Parvati are locked in an intense fight to get your attention. Hannah Abbott keeps casting appreciative glances your way. Ernie MacMillan's this close to beating you up. Pansy Parkinson's drooling over you in Potions…"

Neville's mouth dropped open at this. "You're kidding."

Grinning, Ron shook his head. "Nope, not kidding. Malfoy's probably at his wit's end, not that it'd take much, as to how to get her to stop. That doesn't take into account all the fifth year girls who make special trips past the greenhouses to get a glimpse of you with your robes off."

"It's hot in there," Neville exclaimed in his defense, his face flushing scarlet.

"No doubt," Ron agreed. "But the sight of you in your school shirt and trousers is apparently quite appealing. Of course, the fifth years aren't the only ones."

Neville stared flabbergasted at Ron's amused but sincere face. All of this had been going on around him, _because_ of him, and he hadn't noticed? It didn't seem possible. He knew that he'd changed a lot over the summer hols but not so much as to cause this outbreak of admiration. Fat lot of good it did him, he thought as he worried his bottom lip to keep from pouting. He'd noticed that the object of his affection was quite absent from that list.

"So, back my question," Ron said when Neville didn't say anything for several moments, "why don't you have a girlfriend?"

Neville shrugged. "It's never come up." He blanched as he realized what he'd said. _Please don't let Ron notice. Please don't let Ron notice. Please…_ "You like boys, don't you, Neville?" Ron asked quietly.

Even though his dormmate didn't look disgusted or worried, Neville was terrified. He didn't want people to know. He didn't want things to change. Since term had started, life at Hogwarts had became much more amenable; he was no longer ridiculed or humiliated on a near daily basis. If it got out that he was a pouf, all of that would go away. Neville didn't think he could handle going back to the way things were.

He opened his mouth, tried to force out an answer, but his voice had deserted him. Miserably, knowing that he didn't have any other option, Neville nodded. Damn his inability to lie convincingly. He raised watery eyes to Ron's clear, blue ones. "Please don't tell anyone?" he whispered.

Concerned sobriety bled into Ron's face. He, too, opened his mouth to speak but couldn't seem to find words. Eventually, he settled on nodding.

"Thank you."


	3. In His League

Harry climbed wearily through the portrait hole. It was late and he'd just come back from the library. He'd taken to doing his homework there instead of the common room. He found it easier to concentrate when Neville wasn't around to catch his eye. As it was, his eyes were scanning the common room for a glimpse of the round-faced boy. _Actually_, Harry thought as his eyes swept over the chairs by the fireplace, _his face is much slimmer than it used to be. In fact, Neville's grown into his features quite nicely, what with those soft, plump lips and those clear, pretty brown eyes that light up when he smiles._ Harry particularly liked the way Neville's slightly curly hair brushed the back of his neck and how his hands were large and strong but really gentle. He couldn't help wondering how it would feel to have Neville's hands on him—any part of him.

Harry had been so engrossed in his musings that he hadn't even realized he was staring at the boy as he catalogued his best assets. Now he noticed that he was indeed staring at Neville. Who looked scared. And had tears in his eyes. And was talking to Ron. Oh, no. Ron didn't. Ron wouldn't have _told_ him. Would he? "Damn it, Ron," he cried, furious that Ron would go to Neville about his crush even when he'd specifically told him not to. "You couldn't just leave things alone, could you?"

Ron, who had jumped in his seat when Harry began yelling, turned and glared at his friend. "Someone had to do something."

"I told you to leave it!" Harry couldn't bring himself to look at Neville. He was too mortified; the boy _had_ been crying about it, after all. "I told you not to meddle!"

All other conversation and activity had ceased; everyone's attention was focused on the arguing friends. Ron crossed his arms over his chest as he stood and stared down at Harry. "I did what you wouldn't do. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you don't have all the answers?"

"Has it ever occurred to you to mind your own bloody business?" Harry shouted. His breathing came in harsh, shallow drags and he was on the point of tears. _Why _had Ron told Neville?

"Maybe if you weren't so…"

"Hey!" Harry and Ron turned toward Neville, who was looking at both of them as if they'd lost their minds. "Perhaps you two should talk about this after you've calmed down a bit," he suggested quietly. His gaze flicked from Ron's red face to Harry's. They lingered and Harry tried to decipher the myriad emotions swirling in Neville's chocolate gaze. "Don't…don't you think?"

Wrenching his eyes from Neville's, Harry turned back to Ron. "You shouldn't have done this," he said before stalking off to the dormitory.

Dropping his bag at the foot of the bed, Harry angrily stripped off his clothes and put on his pajamas. He couldn't believe Ron would do something like this to him. They were friends, best friends. If there was anyone he should be able to trust with his secrets, it was him. Flopping on the bed, Harry stared up at the canopy and tried to figure out what he was going to say to Neville. Especially since the boy clearly didn't fancy him in return. This was what he'd wanted to avoid—knowing. It was one thing to fancy someone you considered a friend. It was quite another for that person to be aware of your feelings and not reciprocate them. Not only was it heartbreaking, it also put a strain on their friendship. That was the last thing Harry wanted.

He'd just decided to sit Neville down and assure him that a strictly platonic relationship was all he expected when the boy slipped into the room. Harry's stomach lurched and he examined his fingernails so that he wouldn't stare at his dorm mate. When Neville turned his back and began to undress, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and draped his arm over them. Surely, a boy who'd just been told another boy had a crush on him wouldn't undress in front of said boy if he didn't like him a little bit. Right? Harry desperately tried to figure out what Neville's behavior meant and how he should proceed all while resisting the urge to peek at the boy's tanned, muscular back.

The bed shifted beneath him and Harry uncovered his eyes in shock. Neville, dressed in a close-fitted T-shirt and loose pajama pants, lay beside him staring at the canopy overhead. Harry gaped speechless for a long moment before turning to stare at the canopy as well. He hadn't a clue about what to do or what this new development meant or how to react to having the object of his affection in his bed. Well, all right, _on_ his bed fully clothed though in a horizontal position, but it was disconcerting all the same.

Harry had almost worked up the nerve to speak when Neville broke the silence. "Whatever Ron did, I'm sure he meant well."

"I know," Harry sighed, "but…"

"You should make up with him."

"Did he ask you to talk to me for him?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Neville shook his head. He was still staring at the canopy. "He's too angry right now. I came up to see if you're all right."

"Oh." Harry felt quite flattered that he'd come up just to check on him. Maybe there was still hope.

"Was it something to do with You-Know…" Neville flushed at Harry's pointed look, "sorry…with the 'Dark Lord?'"

Smothering his grin at Neville's artful avoidance of "Voldemort," Harry shook his head. "No. It's personal."

"Oh." He folded his hands on his stomach.

Harry watched the boy chew his bottom lip. After several minutes passed, Harry began to wonder why Neville hadn't gone back to his bed. Maybe this was his subtle way of telling Harry that their relationship was all right even though Neville didn't return his feelings. Or maybe he was working up to confronting Harry about his crush. He didn't really care for either option.

"Ron told me something," Neville said suddenly, "and I'd like to talk to you about it, if you don't mind."

Apologies and reassurances tripped over themselves in his mind, but Harry couldn't bring himself to utter any of them. "Sure, go ahead."

Turning on his side, Neville propped his head in his hand. "He said a lot of girls have been vying for my attention. Have you noticed anything?"

"Er…yeah." It was rather hard not to. Even Ginny and Hermione had commented on how hot the boy had become over the summer. Was Neville leading up to telling Harry he wasn't interested?

"Hmm." Neville flopped onto his back again. "That's odd."

"What?"

"The girls," he said, his voice contemplative. "I lost some weight and grew a few inches and suddenly girls are interested in me? It doesn't make sense. _I_ haven't changed, so why does the change in my appearance matter?"

Harry didn't agree. Neville had changed a great deal since their first year. Though he was still rather forgetful, he'd also grown more confident. His improved self-esteem plus the magical proficiency he'd gained with his new wand had shown everyone that Neville Longbottom was not someone to dismiss. He'd even improved in potions. Yet, for all those changes, he was still sweet, unassuming Neville. Harry thought it was a rather intoxicating combination.

The bed shifted again as Neville turned back toward him. The boy tucked an arm under his head and stared at Harry through thick, straight lashes. Harry had never seen lashes like that before—long and silky and dark; they brushed the curve of his cheeks when he blinked. He bet they were soft, too.

Neville swiped his hand over the bridge of his nose. "Did I get it?"

"What?" Harry asked mystified, blinking out of his trance.

"Did I get it?" he repeated, wiping his mouth.

Harry still had no clue what Neville was talking about. "Get what?"

With a light chuckle, Neville gave him a bemused look. "Whatever you were staring at?"

"What…oh!" Fighting back a blush, Harry gave a vague nod. "Yeah, you got it."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Neville asked, concern furrowing his brow. "You're acting a bit odd."

"I'm just…" Harry shook his head. He really didn't want to explain. "So what are you going to do?"

"About the girls?" Neville shrugged. "Nothing. It's not like they actually like me."

"What makes you say that?"

Neville rolled his eyes. "Come on, Harry. We all know that I'm not exactly a grand catch. I'm certainly not in the same league as the girls Ron mentioned."

"Of course, you are," Harry countered, surprised by Neville's derisive tone.

"Uh huh."

"You are," Harry insisted as he turned on his side and jabbed the mattress with each point. "You're kind and thoughtful. You're a good listener. You never make fun of anyone. You're smart. Yes, you are," he stated fiercely when Neville opened his mouth to deny it. "You are smart and talented and powerful. You are a good person, Neville, and a good wizard and you shouldn't say you're out of anyone's league because you're not."

Ending with a huff, Harry glared into Neville's stunned brown eyes as if daring the boy to disagree. Ever since he'd learned about the prophecy, he'd hated hearing people put Neville down. But it was much, much worse when Neville did it to himself.

They stared at each other in silence. Harry watched curiously then anxiously as the shock in Neville's eyes turned to speculation. What if Neville figured out Harry's speech was born of infatuation? What if the speculation turned to disgust? What if…

Neville tilted his head and closed the short distance between them. Harry's eyes widened as Neville's lips brushed tentatively over his, brown eyes watching his intently. When he didn't pull away, Neville closed his eyes and claimed Harry's lips.

Harry's heart skipped a beat then began to gallop in his chest. Neville was kissing him. He was kissing Neville and it was every bit as sweet and gentle as he'd imagined it would be. Soft, warm lips moved leisurely over his, coaxing him to relax. Harry moaned then gasped when Neville swept his tongue over his lips before darting in to explore Harry's mouth. Sighing, Harry scooted closer to Neville, slipped his arms around the boy's waist and eagerly followed his lead.

They got closer and closer until they were as close as they could get. Neville pressed forward, pushing Harry onto his back. Not that he minded bearing Neville's weight. He slid his arms up Neville's back and wrapped them around his shoulders, lost in the exhilarating sensation of finally kissing the object of his affection.

The kiss seemed to last forever, an enchanting melding of lips and tongues and breath. When Neville pulled back, Harry blinked up at him, bewildered. Had Neville Longbottom really just snogged him senseless? Neville smiled down at him before brushing a quick kiss on Harry's lips. "Are you sure I'm in anyone's league?" he whispered, his voice deliciously hoarse.

Harry nodded; he didn't trust his voice not to crack or squeak or do anything else equally embarrassing.

"Does this mean that we're..." Neville carefully considered his words, "seeing each other?"

He wanted to nod or shout out an emphatic yes, but Harry stopped as he opened his mouth. While he desperately wanted to have a relationship with Neville, he was far too aware of the danger that always surrounded him. Though he didn't know when it would happen, the final confrontation with Voldemort was coming sooner than later and what if Neville got injured in the crossfire. Harry couldn't bear the thought of anything hurting Neville because of him. He was dangerous to know or be around, let alone love. He really cared about Neville. If they were to date, the from-a-distant adoration would deepen and solidify. If that happened, there was no telling what he would do or sacrifice to save Neville.

"Do you just want to snog, then?" Neville asked in the ensuing silence, the disappointment he was trying to hide evident in his voice.

"I want more than that," Harry whispered back. "I'm just not sure if I should."

Neville cocked his head curiously. "Why?"

"You'd be a distraction," Harry said. It was as close as he could come to admitting his real fears.

Nodding thoughtfully, Neville brushed another kiss on Harry's lips before lying beside him. "If they get me and try to use me against you, don't let them. The world is more important than me."

Harry gaped at him, shocked that Neville had picked up on the very thing he feared most. "How did you..."

"We've been dorm mates for over six years," Neville answered with a smile. "Did you think I never paid any attention to you?"

Chuckling, Harry shook his head. "I couldn't let anyone hurt you."

"Whether you and I have a relationship or not, we're all in danger, Harry. And if I don't make it, I'd rather have the memory of really loving you in my heart than wonder what if."

For a long moment, Harry simply stared at Neville. Finally, he asked, "Really?"

Neville nodded.

"You could love me?"

"Yes."

"Me, too," Harry whispered, leaning over Neville and taking his lips in a thorough, happy kiss.

He didn't know how long they'd been kissing when a most deliberate cough interrupted them. Cursing the cougher to perdition, Harry glanced up to find Ron leaning in the doorway. "You should have closed the hangings if you didn't want to be disturbed," Ron said quietly.

Neville moaned and buried his hot face in the crook of Harry's neck. Harry stared at his best friend, a smile slowly dawning on his face. "I know you didn't tell."

"You should have known that from the beginning," Ron retorted good-naturedly.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, practically spitting the distasteful words out.

Biting his lips to keep from laughing, Ron nodded before turning back toward the hall. "You two probably have another half-hour before the others come up."

Harry smirked. "Thanks."

With a shrug, Ron closed the door behind him.

"Neville?" Harry rubbed the brown-haired boy's shoulder. "He's gone."

"That was embarrassing."

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"Of course, not," Neville said, glaring at Harry for even suggesting such a thing. "But I don't care for everyone witnessing the most passionate snogging session of my life either."

Harry grinned. "Well, as your boyfriend, I can guarantee more in the future. That is if you want to be my boyfriend."

Neville smiled at Harry and cupped the boy's cheek, lightly stroking it with his thumb. "I'd like that," he whispered as he closed the bed hangings and set out to show Harry just how much.


End file.
